Turn Back The Clock
by belle of the ball s2
Summary: The Dark Lord is back, and the Wizarding World is in turmoil—Death Eaters terrorize the land and His ranks swell with followers. The death toll rises daily. Hermione and Ron are given a mission: turn back the clock and befriend the Dark Lord. Sent back fifty years in time to 1944, they must find a way to show the teenaged Dark Lord the power of friendship and, possibly, love.


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J K Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **So hello hello everybody! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, and I'm going to try really hard to finish it. Constructive criticism is welcomed so feel free to let me know how I can improve.

Please, review if you think I should continue or that this story is worth continuing. I'm truly uncertain and with so many great fics out there …

_Thanks to my wonderful beta _cosettex_ for all her help!_

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**Turn Back the Clock**

_:: Chapter One : The Final Battle_

It was a Hogsmeade weekend and the Golden Trio, one among the many student groups, milled about idly. They had just exited Honeydukes, their arms laden with purchases. Hermione sucked absently on a Sugar Quill, her eyes half lidded with pleasure, and the boys shared a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, grimacing every so often at the unusual tastes they encountered.

Ron looked about constantly, but his attention always wandered back to the witch at his side. He still regarded it as a miracle, how ever since that wintry Christmas morning when they had kissed under the mistletoe, they'd walked hand in hand showing the world that they were a proud couple. It was almost too good to be true.

Each caught up in their own happy thoughts, Voldemort was the farthest thing from their minds; so it came as a shock to them when Harry doubled over in pain, hand clutching his scar as though it were on fire.

Face twisting, Harry gasped out raggedly, "You Know Who, he's here!" before collapsing unconscious in the middle of the road.

"Rennervate!" Hermione yelled, having been the first to work through her initial shock.

Harry sat up, wearily rubbing his eyes. "What's up?" he asked groggily, but before the others could reply, it all came back to him.

Jumping to his feet, he barked, "Come on, let's go!"

The others jolted out of their temporary stupor, dashing to their feet and around the corner with Harry in the lead. As they turned, however, they stopped in horror, jaws hitting the ground.

The village lay before them in all its war torn glory: the houses were silhouetted in flame, its walls reduced to rubble. Death Eaters strode among the chaos, a trail of dead corpses in their wake, and jets of green and blue lit up the sky, the screams of the dying piercing the still air.

They leapt into the fray, their wands out and faces determined. Hermione ducked into a nearby house, its windows soot—stained and roof crumbling. A loud cry, a baby's cry, came from upstairs, and she hastened towards the sound.

She burst into the room, startling the Death Eater who had been about to flee. A brief duel ensued, but ended when Hermione stunned the man and took his wand. She was too late though, and the baby was dead, his clothes soaked through with blood and mouth open in a wordless scream. The child's glassy blue eyes stared at her, and Hermione felt as though the child could see into her very soul. Suppressing a shiver, she closed the baby's eyes, moving to brush aside his hair, matted red with blood.

An inexplicable rage rose up inside her, a thirst for revenge against this innocent child's death. Her eyes flashed with anger, and before she could ponder what she was doing, she stalked back to where the masked man lay, grinding one heeled boot into the side of his neck. He gave a little gurgle, blood trickling from under his mask, his limbs flailing as he tried to grasp at her foot, but Hermione held firm until the man grew still. _Dead._

Hermione felt a sort of sick satisfaction from the death of this man and flinging the offending wand aside, she stepped over his still form and leapt out the window into the middle of the street. Battles raged around her as wizards and Death Eaters faced off, wands flashing as bursts of color flared around them.

She brought her wand down in a quick forward motion, stunning a particularly ferocious Death Eater. Lupin flashed her a quick grin before turning to engage yet another of His men. A slash of her wand and her opponent was dispatched. Death Eaters fell in quick succession around her, but it wasn't enough, there were too many. It seemed as though for every man she took down, two more took his place.

Hermione was fatigued, her limbs protesting her every move. She knew it was futile, that if she didn't fight fire with fire, they would be destroyed, but her mind refused to accept it.

Dennis Creevey fell, his screams for mercy unanswered, and it was his death that pushed her over the edge. Hermione slashed her wand, and a ray of blue light arched out and collided unto the backs of nearby Death Eaters. They fell, toppling over like a set of human dominoes, but Hermione had no time to waste.

She fought her way to Harry's side, lips moving as she continued to send out curse after curse, some of them dark. A particularly nasty one hit a Death Eater in the side, and he crumpled to the ground, his mouth open in silent agony. Needles poured from his mouth as the man began to vomit, his blood slowly congealing to the thickness of oatmeal. The man was terrified, clearly on the brink of death—no amount of medical attention could save him now.

Even from a distance, Bellatrix looked ferocious. Her hair framed her face in a dark halo, and her eyes were manic, crazed laughter carrying in the wind. Her taunts had clearly stung Harry whose green eyes had darkened with rage. His anger made him weak though, and the sight of Bellatrix calmly blocking his curses served to only further infuriate him.

Bellatrix has noticed her standing there though, her attention shifting to this new threat.

"Go, run Harry!" Hermione shouted at him as he stood there motionless. She knew that she couldn't fend off Bellatrix's curses for much longer, but the sight of green light whizzing towards his head seemed to jolt Harry into action, and he ran.

Satisfied that her friend would be safe, or as safe as one could be in the middle of a battle, Hermione turned her attention back to the other witch. Bellatrix sent a casual _crucio _her way which Hermione rapidly diverted towards a sneering Dolohov.

The brunette waved her wand, sending a barrage of hexes towards Bellatrix. An aqua blue ray impacted into her chest, and Bellatrix stumbled, the jinx gouged a bloody hole in her chest. Retaliation was swift however, and she began to fire curses in earnest, one of them hitting Hermione in the stomach. She winced as blood began to pour, staining her robe crimson.

Greyback lunged at her from behind, his massive jaws tearing her wand from her grasp. He tossed it to the ground, stamping on it to snap it in half. But this by no means left Hermione helpless, and she lifted one bloody hand up.

Greyback was lifted twenty feet up into the air, and as he tried to free himself from the alien grasp, others turned to watch.

"Filthy mudblood." Greyback spat, spittle flying from his mouth. Hermione squeezed her hand into a fist, and the werewolf began to choke as invisible hands tightened around his throat, his face turning purple from the lack of air. A wave of her hand and Greyback crumpled to the ground, his limbs contorted like a cut marionette as he lay gasping in his death throes.

Hermione could vaguely hear Fred whistling in the distance, which prompted the other students to applaud.

The Death Eaters fumed around her, but were apparently too afraid to face her. Bellatrix however had no such qualms, and stepped forward to face Hermione. She was furious, and a furious Bellatrix was something to beware.

A flick of her wand and curses began to bombard the remaining Order members. The Death Eaters gathered up their courage to face them and charged forward in one huge wave, scattering the Order about them as the students fled in fear.

Hermione was not to be cowed however; sending her own volley of curses to rain on the Death Eaters. Men fell around her and Bellatrix as the two once more began to duel, their wands flashing as they circled each other in a deadly dance.

Hermione sent a quick stunner at Bellatrix, and as the latter dodged it, Hermione sent another spell which hit the Death Eater's arm; its bones shattering on impact; however, Bellatrix continued to fight.

Rodolphus, however, wasn't so blasé about his wife's injuries as Bellatrix herself has been; and so he pressed his Dark Mark to alert the Dark Lord. Only his brother standing by his side noticed the subtle movement, and he said nothing.

The Order has sustained many injuries by this point, and they called a retreat. The students fled instantly, a group of Death Eaters separating from the main body of their group to chase after these survivors. It wasn't of any use, however, as the Order had reached the castle by now, and they returned dejected to report to their commanders.

Hermione was the sole fighter left, the summons for retreat went unheeded as she battled, bodies slowly piling around her.

In her hyper concentrated state of mind, Hermione hadn't noticed Voldemort arriving, and when she finally did, her heart sank.

He was the very epitome of evil with his reptilian features, those dark red eyes a burning crimson—like fresh blood— his thin lips twisted in a mocking sneer and his black cloak billowing almost elegantly around him. His movements were sinuous as he glided forth, like that of some predatory cat, power and deadly grace in every stride. His feet were bare.

Voldemort gently stroked his wand, his pale, spidery fingers striking against the twisted yew of his wand. He seemed almost _affectionate _in his regard for the wand, his soulless red eyes flickering with some unidentifiable emotion.

A wave of his wand and a streak of pulsing black energy whizzed towards Hermione's head. Before it could impact, however, she flung up a shield, and the diverted curse rebounded back towards a very amused Dark Lord.

Secretly, Voldemort was impressed with the young witch's skill, but regardless, sent another hex towards her. After all, the Granger girl was still a mudblood, and the filthy creatures had no place in his new world.

"Flipendo!" Hermione shouted, ducking to avoid the arch of orange light that soared over her head. Voldemort merely raised a nonexistent eyebrow at this, not even bothering to get out of the way, and as soon as the jinx neared the Dark Lord, it was swiftly redirected towards a struggling Tonks.

The Dark Lord flicked his wand, and Hermione braced herself as the sickly green light went through her hastily erected shield, and hit her in the chest with an invisible fist. Face strained, she attempted to stand, but the Dark Lord struck her down before she could do so.

Voldemort moved fluidly, and his magic, much the same way, without restriction. It was dark, tearing at her, shredding her own magic before its frenzied assault, and Hermione was no match,

Frustrated, the girl flung aside her wand—it was useless. She had taken it from one of the Death Eaters she had been dueling, but she doubted that either of them had any use for it now.

Voldemort had instantly recognized the polished vine though—how many times had he seen that wand stoically inflicting unimaginable tortures upon the shackled prisoners in his dungeon? The wand could only belong to the insufferable Lucius Malfoy.

He wondered how the little witch had managed to beat the man, but perhaps it was further proof that it was time for a change, and Draco was such a delightful young man with quite the potential for darker magics.

Hermione rolled back her sleeves, folding them neatly up to her elbows. A twist of her palm and a midnight blue ray flew towards Voldemort—and went off course, crashing into the back of an anonymous Death Eater. _Whoops. _

Her temper rising, Hermione focused all of her rage into her outstretched fingers, feeling that familiar drain in her stomach as her magic was depleted—she flexed her fingers, and electricity burst forth, crackling light blue mixed with pale yellow as it danced about her.

The Death Eaters around them flinched back, but the Dark Lord simply sliced his wand through the air, cleaving through it as though it were but lightning through the night sky.

Hermione felt the energy being physically sucked from her as she collapsed boneless to the ground, her robes pooling around her like a dark stain, cushioning her fall.

The Dark Lord waved his wand, sending a scythe of familiar green light speeding towards her. Hermione closed her eyes and though of her life. She saw herself, Harry and Ron joking together over a game of chess, she witnessed herself dancing at the Yule Ball with Viktor … but death never came.

Hermione opened her eyes, confused. Apparently, Dumbledore had Apparated in front of her at the last minute—talk about luck—and deflected the curse right before it hit her.

Voldemort was understandably furious at having his will thwarted, and had resumed his attack upon Hermione. Dumbledore swished his wand to form a silvery bubble around them.

"Miss Granger, as soon as I take down the wards, you are to leave. Do you understand?" Dumbledore said, the twinkle leaving his stern blue eyes. He reached into the voluminous pocket of his flamboyant purple robes, handing her a silver backed hand mirror.

Hermione nodded mutely, too stunned to speak, her hand closing around the Portkey.

Dumbledore waved his wand to cancel the shield, and watching as it began to collapse, shouted "Go!" at Hermione.

The mirror glowed blue, and Hermione felt the familiar tugging sensation behind her navel as the Portkey took her back to Hogwarts. She briefly saw the two dueling, and Voldemort slashing his wand down, the shield around him flashing reddish yellow, before the world grew dark.

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Hermione winced slightly as she opened her eyes, the harsh glare of the sunlight streaming in through the open windows momentarily blinding her. She shifted, blinking to adjust her eyes—she felt sore all over, doubtlessly due to the strain of the previous day's battle.

She turned her head slightly to observe the students laying around her. Neville Longbottom was reclined across the room, his arm stiff beside him and swathed in gauze bandages that were already beginning to turn red. Pain filled, his round face sported a slight green tinge.

Hannah Abbott, the friendly Hufflepuff, had been laid onto a nearby bed and bundled under the covers, the curtains around her pulled halfway shut. Hermione could tell that the war has been hard on her—a twisted scar gashed around her pale face, disappearing beneath her blond hair darkened with sweat and grime; her wide blue eyes glassy and unseeing.

But that was not the worst of her injuries, a curse had also taken off most of her left arm and part of her upper shoulder, and she now walked with a slight limp due to a wound that Bellatrix had inflicted to her thigh. Apparently, magic could not fix everything.

Hermione was just about to call for a nurse when Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office, a tray of jewel hued potions in her hands. She gasped, nearly dropping the tray, and quickly set it on a nearby bed as she hurried over to examine her patient.

Madam Pomfrey was much like Mrs. Weasley, a plump, good natured matron with auburn hair that had already begun to grey at the temples and strangely piercing green eyes. She wore the standard Healer's garb, her clothes crisp and sterile.

Hermione could vaguely hear the kindly matron muttering to herself, her tone faintly disapproving. "… too dangerous out there … could've been killed … wasn't expected to survive the night … Dumbledore … absolutely horrified … poor child … injuries … lost too much blood … must thank Professor Snape." This last bit was grumbled in a softer, albeit unwilling, tone, for her feud with the reviled Potions Master was fast becoming legendary.

The nurse handed Hermione a glass of murky brown liquid, and Hermione downed it without protest, gagging a little at the bitter taste. The potion tasted vaguely like sour milk and cabbage, which Hermione guessed to be a mixture of Pepper Up and Blood Replenishing potions, and a tinge of grape? No, it tasted like the Muggle numbing creams her mum bought from the pharmacy.

"And Miss Granger, if you ever feel any pain or discomfort, however slight, you can always come here and check with us, our door is always open. Okay?" Madam Pomfrey asked softly.

Hermione nodded dutifully—she knew the woman was only looking out for her.

The nurse continued, "… So, I guess you're free to go then, Miss Granger. Take care!"

Hermione smiled at her and gathered up her things. She stopped to pat Hannah's hand and continued on her way out, pausing briefly at the doorway to wave goodbye to the nurse.

Hermione made her way back to her dorm, glancing longingly at the students meandering about the castle grounds, giggling in their tight knit groups.

She envied their innocence, their inexperience, hell! Even their stupidity. It made Hermione wish that she could spend a day relaxing without thinking about Harry, Voldemort and the ever present question of what to do with them: she wanted a break!

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So how did you find it? I hope you guys liked it: if you liked it, review it! You can help motivate me by reviewing—the more reviews I get the more pressure I feel to update.

Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And I hope I didn't make too many mistakes :P

¤.¸¸.·´¨» belle of the ball s2


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